Craziness
by GryphonoftheNorth
Summary: A collection of crazy Heroes one-shot crack!fics. Just something I'm doing for fun.
1. Mr Muggylar

**A/N: This is a collection of Heroes spoofs, just because my friend and I are crazy and it's fun. I love the show and all of it's characters. Flames aren't very nice, but personally I don't really care. **

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It had been a long day for Sylar. People tried to kill him a lot, that was nothing new, and every time they actually succeeded he always some how got back to life. Today, however, has been unusually violent and truthfully, he was a bit tired of it. He wandered around, because he really didn't have a house anymore, just wanting someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge him. That's when he remembered. That cute fluffy ball of orange fur. Mr. Muggles. Yes, he would understand.

After obtaining a map and the largest blueberry muffin he had ever seen Sylar made his way to the Bennet house, where he knew Mr. Muggles would be. Luckily, no one was home, so he just let himself in. He was greeted by the frantic yapping of a Pomeranian as Mr. Muggles scurried toward him on his small legs.

"Hey, Mr. Muggles," Sylar greeted, glad to see the dog, yet still depressed from his hard day, "Can I talk to you? It's just that, today's been hard and nothings been going right for my for a long time, There's just no one I can talk to, they all keep trying to kill me. I just need someone who will listen, someone who understands," He sniffed, getting a little emotional.

"Ruff," Barked Mr. Muggles.

"Like, this morning, I want out to get a Carmel Frappachino with a dash of cinnamon and a dollop of whipped cream from Starbucks, I had a gift card, and Hiro, the Japanese guy who can bend space and time and has that big sword, I don't think you've ever met him, started freaking out about wantons and calling me a 'bad man'" Sylar sat down on one of the chairs in the living room, Mr. Muggles jumping onto his lap.

"I'm not a bad guy really, ask the ladies at my book club!" He said, scratching Mr. Muggles behind the ears, "I never wanted to be able to steal peoples powers, though I have to admit it is pretty cool. I accidently killed my psycho globe-loving mom, not my fault, she attacked me, and then I painted a future-painting in her blood. I just can't catch a break, Mr. Muggles! I've been tested on, stabbed through the chest, shot who knows how many times, electrocuted, and other various painful things. Do you know what that's like?"

Mr. Muggles cocked his head and barked.

"I suppose not," Sylar sighed, "I killed all these people and got their awesome powers, just to have them taken away by this crazy virus, except for my telekinesis though, which I'm glad for, it's my favorite. After I got healed I had to go around finding new awesome powers, and it's not as easy as you'd think. Maybe now I should stop and turn over a new leaf, open a shoe store maybe. Not a generic shoe store either, no Payless or Footlocker for me. I'd open some swanky expensive shoe store, would you like that, Mr. Muggles?"

Suddenly there was the scraping a the front door being unlocked and Mrs. Bennet, Sandra I think, walked in with her arms full of groceries. Mr. Muggles yapped with joy and lept from Sylar's lap and scurried over to his crazy owner who was obsessed with him.

"Hello, Mr. Muggles!" She cooed, walking towards the kitchen. Only to shriek as she saw Sylar sitting in her living room and drop the groceries, almost crushing Mr. Muggles. She pulled out one of the tiny guns from her purse, because she carried on everywhere except the airport now because she was so paranoid. "What are you doing here?" She demanded in a quivering voice.

"I just wanted to see Mr. Muggles," He sighed, really tired of having guns pointed at him.

"You stay away from Claire, and Mr. Muggles!" She yelled, shooting him in the shoulder, "You can have Lyle though, even I don't care about him!"

"Ow!" Sylar, watched as his shoulder spit out the bullet and proceeded to mend, "See what I mean?" He said to Mr. Muggles, who took advantage of the situation and was digging through the groceries. "Y'know what? I need some ice cream, I'll see you later, Mr. Muggles." He got up and started to walk toward the door, but Mrs. Bennet shot him again. "Stop that!" He yelled before leaving.

It was a few weeks later when Sylar returned, again bummed out after a hard day. "Mr. Muggles?" He called, worried when there was no yapping greeting. "Mr. Muggles?!" He had been trying to be good recently, even joining the Company and becoming Noah's partner, but then his 'partner' tried to get a vortex man to kill him. There's loyalty for you. Still, he was giving this whole 'good guy' thing a chance.

It was in the kitchen that he discovered the storyboards for the rest the season. He read through them and was horrified. No Mr. Muggles.

"No!" He cried in anguish. His only friend, gone. Fuming he telekinetically ripped some stuff apart before storming out. Mr. Muggles had been the only reason he had to be a good guy, and now he was gone. Sylar went off to find someone with powers to kill, but that would only make the pain go away for a little while. He knew he couldn't drown the pain in the blood of his victims forever, but it would help.


	2. HornRimmed Glasses

**A/N: New chapter! Whoo! **

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"Crap," Noah Bennet growled as he dropped his signature horn-rimmed glasses onto the tile, one of the lenses shattering. Gingerly cleaning up the glass he brushed it into the garbage can, taking his broken glasses upstairs. Setting them on his dresser he opened a secret compartment in his sock drawer where he kept a stock of extra pairs of horn-rimmed glasses. You'd be surprised how many pairs got damaged or lost in the 'paper' business. It was empty.

Sighing through his teeth, he fished his phone from his pocket and angrily dialed a number.

"Hello?" A voice spoke from the phone after two rings.

"Yeah, John, it's me," Noah greeted, "I need some new glasses,"

"Oh, hello, Mr. Bennet!" The voice said enthusiastically, sounding amused as it added, "Ran out already? You sure bought a load of 'em last time,"

"Yeah, I have bad luck, I guess," He answered, a little impatient, "So can you get me some?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bennet, our shipment doesn't come until tomorrow afternoon…"

"Are you sure?" He demanded.

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Mr. Be--"

"I'll pick them up tomorrow, thank you," Noah cut him off, hanging up by snapping his phone closed. "Great, just great," he sighed.

Turning his room upside down he finally found a few pairs of glasses that would work for the day, not horn-rimmed, but they would do. Slipping on a pair of circular ones that he though made him look stupid, Noah Bennet went downstairs to greet his family for the day.

"Good morning," He greeted, trying not to sound annoyed. He grabbed a piece of toast as it popped from the toaster.

"Hey! That's my toast!" Claire protested, staring at him strangely, "Who are you? What are you doing in our house?"

Mrs. Bennet and Lyle were staring at him with similar expressions, torn between confusion and hostility. Mr. Muggles growled and yapped at him from the ground.

"What are you talking about? It's me, Claire bear," He said hesitantly, greatly confused.

"Don't call me that! You're not my dad!" Claire yelled, backing away from him.

"What? Yes I--"

"Get out of our house! Leave us alone!" Mrs. Bennet demanded, sounding frightened and angry.

"I live here--Oh, my face!" Noah started, only to be cut off by searing pain as Mrs. Bennet threw a waffle straight from the pan at his face, giving him at least second-degree burns.

"Get out!" She shrieked, waving the pan threateningly.

Noah made a tactical retreat out of the house, hopping into his car and peeling out of the driveway before any more hot breakfast items could be thrown at him. Confused, his face stinging, he made his way to work. Maybe things would be normal there. Well, as normal as it could get.

"I'm sorry, but you're not authorized to go in there." A guard stopped him from entering the secret bowels of Primatech paper.

"It's me, Steve," He told the guard, recognizing him, "Noah Bennet,"

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Steve said threateningly, reaching towards his belt.

"I work here--Oh, my face!" Out of no where a hot pancake flew through the air and slapped him on the face, adding to the pain the waffle had inflicted.

"What is going on!" He growled to himself as he left, heading back towards his car before anything else could hit him.

Really fed up now he drove around town, trying to cool down. There, he pulled into an ice cream shop, that would help his day. Walking up to the counter he ordered a large cup of cookies-and-cream ice cream, gently touching the cold to his scalded face as he went over and sat at a table.

"Ow, ow, ow," He murmured, alternatively cooling down him face with the cup and eating the ice cream inside.

"Hello there," A voice said cheerfully, sitting down at his table, "Mind if I sit here?"

"No, go ahead," He mumbled, not looking up.

"Ow, what happened to your face?" The voice asked sympathetically.

"It got burned," He answered, looking up. Recognizing the face he started in surprised and anger, "Sylar?!"

"How do you know my name?" Sylar demanded, glancing around the room.

"It's me!" Noah almost yelled, flabbergasted. What was going on here? "Noah Bennet! I hate your guts! Ugh! Why does no one remember me--Oh, my FACE!" This time it was eggs sunny side up that smacked him in the face.

"What is going ON here?!" Noah screamed, running out of the building.

Sylar stared after him, confused. Picking up his ice cream he called, "Come on, Mr. Muggles, let's go." and he and the Pomeranian left.

Noah was huddled on the street corner when the police arrived, taking him to the police station.

"He's clean," One cop was telling another, "but we're gonna keep him overnight,"

Morning found Noah Bennet haggard and in pain, his burnt face swollen. The police let him go and, not knowing what else to do, he went to the glasses store.

"Hello, John, my glasses in yet?" He asked in a ragged voice, walking up to the counter.

"Mr. Bennet?" John said, shocked by his clients appearance "What happ--I mean, yeah, they just came in." A glare silenced his question and he hurried to the back of the store. "Here you go, have a nice day,"

Nodding to him Noah took the glasses and left. Once safely in the car he took off the stupid circular glasses and replaced them with the comfortable familiarity of his horn-rimmed glasses. Hoping that he had put yesterday's craziness behind him, he slowly drive home.

Hesitantly he stepped into the house, watching out for flying breakfast foods, and walked toward the kitchen.

"Dad?" Claire said, noticing her father, "Where have you been? You've been missing for a day!" Looking worried she ran over and hugged him.

"Honey, what happened to your face? Where were you?" Mrs. Bennet walked over, worrying over his burns.

Noah just stood there, extremely confused.


	3. Future Peter's Scar

**A/N: Yay reviews! Thank you to everyone has reviewed. Keep at it, reviews make me happy ^^ This one and the next one were kinda short so I'm posting them at the same time.**

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It was a slow day. The world didn't need saving, Sylar wasn't around to try to kill, and Peter had nothing to do. He was sitting on a park bench eating an English muffin when his mind started to wander, thinking about weird things he's never noticed before…Why are they called English muffins? He don't look like muffins, and are they from England? The world may never know…

Why did his future self always have a scar?

The question interrupted his English muffin centered thoughts, giving him something to ponder. No matter what future he went to or when Future Peter popped up in the present, he always had a scar across his face. What was that all about?

Throwing out the rest of his English muffin (it was a lie, anyways,) he poofed to the future, somehow showing up the exact moment he got his scar.

Future Peter (from now on know as FP) was strolling down the street eating an English muffin. Peter went all invisible and trailed after him, wishing that he hadn't thrown out his English muffin. Out of nowhere a gingerbread house fell from the sky, hurtling toward FP's unsuspecting head.

"No!" Peter yelled, tackling FP, thus saving him from the flying Christmas confection. Instead the cookie house smashed onto the back of his head, knocking him out. Peter learned something that day, gingerbread houses are as hard as rocks.

A few minutes later he came too, staggering to his feet and looking around for FP. He found him shaking his head sadly at his English muffin, which had fallen and gotten link and gum and dirt all over its buttery goodness.

"I'm sorry about the English muffin, man," He apologized to FP, "But I had o save you from getting a facial scar."

Slowly FP turned to him. Peter gasped as he saw what his interference had caused. A red line of blood dashed across FP's face where the scar always was.

"Why aren't you healing?!" Peter gasped.

"Since you're obviously past me, I guess you don't know," FP paused dramatically, "Gingerbread is my only weakness, I was sliced by a falling gingerbread man when you pushed me out of the way."

"Oh," Peter said sadly. "At least I know the truth now"

"Go home now," FP said in a weird grave voice.

"Okay," Peter sniffed tearing up, he grabbed FP in a bear hug, "I'm going to miss you, man!"

Nodding to each other Peter stepped back and poofed back to the present. Then he went and got an English muffin.


	4. Magic Tortoise

**Tortoise PoV**

I am a tortoise. Don't call me Mr. Tortoise, Mr. T, The Candy Man, or Mom I think you Ran Something over. And no, I do not know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, go ask an owl. Okay, now that that's taken care of, here's my story.

I was on my way back to my den after munching on some weeds in the Middle of Nowhere, Africa when this guy comes staggering up and falls on his face. I got kinda hungry so I was munching on some grass, watching him out of the corner off my eye. This guy who lives in this shack thing nearby comes up and tells the other guy that this plant'll give him water. So this guy rips outs the bush and starts drinking water from it or something and thanks me. You know what he called me? A turtle! Turtles are tortoise wannabes, a turtle would never survive out here.

The guy who lives in the shack calls me a turtle as well and then they leave. Now I'm a bit interested. I mean, people don't just pop up around these parts. So I start me trek towards the shack, we tortoises may be slow but we get good mileage.

When I finally get there the guy, the shack guy calls him 'Park Man', like he's some kinda super hero. 'Have no fear, Park Man is here! He'll save the streams and little squirrels from Ne'er-do-wells!'. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Anyways, I don't visit Shack Man very often, I'm not a very social guy, but sometimes I'll be walking by and he'll have these creepy white demon eyes and be painting. I'm not often one to judge, but it's a little freaky. Park Man seemed to be just coming out of one of these creepy trances and started freaking out about something.

This was starting to get boring. I decided to head out, my den was probably getting a bit dusty, but Park Man started following me! Stalker. A wandered through the desert for a few days and still Park Man followed me. What's this guys problem? I know I'm a good looking tortoise, but still. Maybe he was saving me from the forces of evil or something.

Somehow we ended up at the city and from there got to an airport. Park Man was chatty so I found out that I'm his 'Spirit Guide' or something, or so he thought. Crazy human. He put me in this this mesh cage thing and fed me, which was all good to me. It takes us tortoises a long while to get anywhere so free rides are great. The plane ride did get a little boring, Park Man gave me some of his peanuts but he didn't seem inclined to share his steak dinner. Selfish.

Finally we arrived at another airport and Park Man started babbling about having to find this lady who he had a kid with, blah, blah, blah. Evidently he found her because he asked for a high five, kinda hard for seeing as though I don't really have fingers.

Some stuff happened and that lady he was looking for came and went a few times. I wasn't really paying attention. So I have a short attention span, sue me. I could go for some ice cream right about now….

It was getting late and Park Man tried to feed me a French fry, I refused it though. It would go strait to my thighs. Anyways, I live in this tank now at Park Man's dingy old apartment, you'd think a super hero would do better. Hey, as long as he feeds me I'm happy.


	5. Raisons

Angela Petrelli stalked into her room, tired after a long day of manipulating people. Taking off her coat she glanced at the clock, realizing with a jolt that her favorite show was about to start. Grabbing the tub of extra buttery popcorn she rarely indulged in she practically skidded to a big chair in front of her TV.

"I love this show…" She muttered to herself, shaking her head slightly. One vice wasn't so bad, was it? Well, okay, she had two vices. Oh how she loved chocolate covered raisons. Uh, maybe she should go get some real quick…Oh! It was starting.

"Extra! Extra!" The shows title sequence started, making Angela bounce a little out of excitement. You couldn't tell by looking at her, but she was addicted to useless celebrity gossip and such.

"Today on Extra," A blonde anchor lady announced, "We find out the true identity of what has been known as 'New York's Own Bigfoot'" A video clipped played, showing a vaguely familiar man in a suit walking down the street, his hair messy, face dirty, and a giant bushy beard on his face.

Man, that Bigfoot man looked familiar…Angela wracked her brain trying to come up with a name. Someone important…Something with an N…Nick? No. Norman? No. Sparkles? Definitely not. Nathaniel? Close. Na…Nat….Nath…Nathan! Yes, her son! Ooh, better not mention that next Christmas party…

"It has been confirmed that Bigfoot is actually former congressman-elect Nathan Petrelli and he has more fans now than he did during the election!" The anchor was continuing. The next clip was that of a bunch of fans on the street corner, holding a giant sign that said "We heart you Mountain William!".

"He's our hero," A guy in another clip was saying, grinning. "We call him Mountain William. Bigfoot is just so unoriginal, you know? And he's so much better than a hillbilly, so he's Mountain William, get it?" Suddenly there was excited screams from behind him and the man spun around.

"Leave me alone!" Nathan (aka Mountain William) practically screamed, shaking fans off his limbs as he tried to walk through the crowd. "All I want is to get an Egg McMuffin in peace!"

A hailstorm of Egg McMuffins followed the statement, burying him in the fast food breakfast.

It abruptly cut back to the anchor who cleared who throat and laughed nervously, "In other news, blueberry muffins are back in fashion this week!"

When the show had ended Angela blinked, picking up the phone and dialing.

"Mom?" Nathan's hoarse voice picked up.

"Sparkle--I mean Nathan, I need you to do something for me." She said in a grave voice.

"Didn't you get the call? I was admitted to the hospital, like, five hours ago!"

"Listen to me!" She snapped.

"What, Mom?" Nathan sighed.

"I need…chocolate covered raisons." Angela sighed dramatically.

"I'm in the hospital! Can't you get them yourself?" He argued.

"Excuses, excuses! Now fetch, Mountain William, fetch!" She snapped, hanging up. Hungry now, she dug through her kitchen cabinets.

"Oh hey!" She said happily as she pulled a tin of chocolate covered raisons from the back of the cabinet. Grinning she sat down in the middle of the floor and munched contently.


	6. DanceOff

**A/N: Okay, before you guys read this, I need to clear up some characters. Nian is my brain-child character and Mr. Snuggles is a talking Pomeranian from a roleplay. I am McGee and Sprinkles is my weird friend. -nodnod- Now you can read away!**

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"There was a farmer who had a dog and Snuggles was his name-o. S-N-U--"

"Please, shut up." A fluffy Pomeranian looked indignant at his song being interrupted.

"Exccuuuuuse me." Mr. Snuggles sniffed. "But I'm a _very _good singer, I'm gonna try out for American Idol next year."

Glaring at him, Mr. Snuggles whipped out his cell phone, ignoring Nian's question as to how he obtained said cell phone. "Hello?" He said into the phone, "Can I speak to Mr. Muggles, please? Yes him. Okay thanks." The Pomeranian was silent as he waited, bouncing slightly to music in his head.

"Muggles!" He cried, hearing the familiar bark. "Its been too long! Listen, can you get that guy to come here, the one with the mad skillz? Yes, skillz with a 'z'. Yup. Okay, cool. See ya here." Looking, satisfied he snapped the phone closed.

"Do I want to know?" Nian asked, raising both eyebrows questioningly because he could never get just one to go up.

"Yes," Mr Snuggles yipped matter-of-factly. "My friend Mr. Muggles knows a guy who's going to teach you a lesson. Evidently he has mad dance skillz."

"Skillz with a 'z'?" Nian said sarcastically, irritated by the little fluff ball that called itself a dog. "And, by the way, I'm _not_ participating in a _dance off_"

"Oh yes you are!" Mr. Snuggles sang. "Look, here they come!"

"What is it, Mr. Muggles?" Sylar asked, following behind the other fluffy Pomeranian. "Is Timmy stuck in a well?!"

"He's going breakdance?" Nian asked Mr. Snuggles, eyeing the mans large eyebrows and wondering it _he_ could raise just one of them.

"YESH!" Mr Snuggles yelled spastically, transforming the unspecified location into a large school gym like room. "Lets do this! Whoo!"

"Do what?" Sylar asked, looking confused. "Who are you? Do you have a power?" He asked Nian, finding that Mr. Muggles has gone to sit on bleachers with his Pomeranian friend.

"_Most _of the time I can shape shift, not all the time though. Don't ask. Hey, can you raise--" Nian was cut off as Mr. Snuggles found the loudspeaker.

"OKAY, PEOPLE!" The loudspeaker blared, "This is a dance off! Get it, got it, good? Okay! I'd like to welcome McGee, our commentator/narrator! Yaaay!"

I (from now on known as McGee.) ran out to the DANCE FIELD, bouncing.

"Hey there!" She waved enthusiastically to everyone, hoping they couldn't tell she was a tad bit high off chocolate. "Now today we're going to see who can BREAKDANCE better! Nian or Sylar! Are you re--"

"Excuse me!" Nian interrupted. "I am _not_ going to breakdance. And what is _this_?!" He gestured wildly to himself, now clad in a bright purple track suit and various items of bling, Sylar being dressed similarly, though his track suit being gold and he had grillz. With a 'z'.

McGee's eyes got big and she stared at him in a creepy "I'm going to eat your soul" way. "We don't interrupt me, _am I understood_?" She said in a low psycho voice, bugged out eyes flicking from Nian to Sylar.

"Uh, yes?" Sylar said slowly, resisting the urge to step back while Nian eyed the door, contemplating making a run for it.

"Okay then! Time for…ROUND ONE!" When they just stood there she snarled, "Dance!"

At first they just kinda bounced awkwardly, but then Nian started getting fancy with The Worm. Competitive, Sylar crouched down and did that spinny move where you stand on your hands and fling your leg around in a circle. You know I mean. Maybe not…Too bad.

"Excuse me!" And old voice interrupted, just as Nian started to do a spin on his head, causing him to fall over.

"PWNED!" Sylar yelled, springing up.

"Interference!" Nian objected.

"PANCAKES!" Aunt Jemimah warbled.

"What?" The entire room looked to the old, black woman, holding a steaming plate of pancakes.

"Would y'all like some pancakes?" She asked innocently.

"Well actually--" McGee started, though was interrupted when Claire flew (figuratively, she can't fly, silly) into the room and tackled poor Jemimah, running off with her pancakes.

"If people don't stop interrupti--"

"Has anyone seen Claire?!" A ninja asked, jumping from the rafters and taking off the ninja mask to reveal Sprinkles.

"Hey, Sprinkles! 'Sup, homedawg?" McGee greeted, "Yeah she just left that wa--"

"Can't stay to talk!" Sprinkles jerked her head dramatically, "Nanarpuss, activate!" An octopus made out of a banana them descended from the ceiling and grabbed Sprinkles the ninja, carrying her off.

"This is so lame," Nian grumbled, watching the odd events progress. Turning to Sylar he asked "Wanna go get some pie?"

Sylar considered it for a second. "Peach pie?"

"Whatever floats your boat," He shrugged.

"Anything's better than this," Sylar shrugged. He whistled, "C'mon, Mr. Muggles!"

So Sylar and Nian left with Mr. Snuggles and Mr. Muggles trotting after the on their small Pomeranian legs.

A little weirded out, McGee just sat down and nibbled on some mini sausages that Aunt Jemimah had in her pocket, wondering if she should call an ambulance for the still unconscious woman.


	7. Big Bad Wolf

**A/N: Just a question: You know that IHOP commercial for all you can eat pancakes? The one where he eats the part and it grows back? Did anyone else think 'Claire pancakes' when they saw that? Maybe I'm just odd XD **

"Claire!" Sandra Bennet called to her daughter, holding a large wicker picnic basket.

"Yeah, mom?" Claire asked, bouncing over to her mother, unusually happy. For some reason everyone felt the overwhelming urge to 'Save the Cheerleader', so her dad made her where her cheerleading uniform everywhere in case she needed saving, so people just called her Cheerleader. It got on her nerves.

"Your Grandmother Angela is under house arrest so I made her some pancakes and chocolate covered raisons for you to take to her," Sandra explained, handing her the basket.

"Doesn't she live on, like, the other side of the country?" Cheerleader asked, resisting the urge to devour the pancakes. Oh, how she loved pancakes.

"She's staying at West house for some reason, something about because she stole too many pairs of socks _here_ or something. By the way, what ever happened to him?"

"Who? West?"

"Yeah, he just kinda, disappeared.."

"Dunno, I think he might've run off with Zach."

"Oh, well, off you go now, Cheerleader." Sandra shooed her out the door.

"My name's _Claire_, Mom!" But the door was already slammed in her face. "Whatever," Swinging the basket she strolled casually down the street, as if there was nothing off about walking around with a large basket, daydreaming about pancakes.

"Hey there, Cheerleader."

Cheerleader spun around, tazering the man wearing a Snuggie that had come up behind her. "BE GONE, RAPIST!"

"OW! Cheerleader! It's me, Nathan!" He took off the Snuggie to reveal his normal suit, looking more like her real dad/enemy/thing than a Sith Lord.

"Oh, hey" She greeted, tazering him again just because he ticked her off. "Why are you wearing a Snuggie?"

"I was cold, now stop tazering me! I just want to know where you're going."

"To see Angela, what's it to you?" Cheerleader said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"No reason," Nathan said nonchalantly before grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around a few times. Then he ran off, leaving her dizzy.

"Ma!" Nathan called, knocking on the door to the house his mother was staying in.

"Wow, Cheerleader, you've changed a lot." Angela said dryly when she answered the door, letting her eldest son in. "What do you want, Nathan? Where are my chocolate covered raisons?"

"I'm here to get Cheerleader, she's just not safe. They want to start killing them. She should be here a few minutes, I just ran into her."

"Why didn't you just kidnap her or whatever then?!" She asked exasperated, "Where do you get your plans, fairy tales?"

Looking sheepish Nathan hid a copy of 'Little Red Riding Hood' behind his back. Just then there was a knock at the door. "Hide!" He hissed at her, going to answer the door.

"Who is it?" He asked in an exaggerated warbly old woman voice.

"Pizza delivery!"

Jerking open the door Nathan grabbed the pizza and threw some money at the delivery guy, shooing him away. Snatching the pizza Angela stalked back off to her hiding place.

"Angela!" A voice called, knocking on the door. "It's me! Claire!"

"Who?" Nathan asked, losing his exaggerated accent.

"Cheerleader," She growled, annoyed that everyone insisted on calling her that.

"Oh," He regained his accent, "Come iiiinnnn…."

Opening the door Cheerleader walked in, still looking a bit dizzy, and set the basket down by the door.

"Hey….You're not Angela! What do you want, Nathan?" She said, glaring at him.

"Ummm…" Nathan turned around and consulted his fairy tale, flipping ahead a few pages. "Yeah, I'm here to take you away, it's for your own good."

"Dude, I hate your guts, okay?" Cheerleader said, nibbling on a pancake. "I'm not going with you."

"You have no choice! You are in my power! Mwhaha--" Nathan was cut off by another voice.

"Why is mom muttering to herself in the closest?" Peter asked, looking confused as he walk into the room. "Oh, hey, Cheerleader."

"Not you too!"

Suddenly Nathan gasped dramatically, dropping his book. "Pete, no! Don't hurt me!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you get it!" Nathan almost screamed, "You're the Hunter to me Big Bad Wolf! You're going to kill me to save the Cheerleader!"

"Wait, if I save the Cheerleader, do I save the world?" Peter asked, pondering.

"No, that ship has sailed"

"Hmmm….Okay, you're safe." Peter decided. "Wanna go to IHOP?"

Nathan and Cheerleader nodded enthusiastically. "Should we go get mom?" Nathan asked.

"Nah, she has a whole pizza."


	8. eHarmony

"Welcome, welcome, welcome!" An over enthusiastic greeter spazzed as people shuffled passed him into a room filled with tables with two chairs each. "Welcome to our eHarmony meet and greet! Here you'll be able to meet who your specialized personality tests deem your perfect partner. Also, Shamwows 25% off! Whoo!"

"This is so embarrassing," Sylar muttered to himself , wearing his glasses so he could read a pamphlet at the table, wishing that he was anywhere else. He couldn't believe he though this was a good idea at one point.

"You must be 5568!" A bright voice greeted, sitting in the chair opposite of him.

"Yeah, he--_Claire_?"

"How'd you know my name?!" She asked, alarmed.

"It's me! Sylar?" He looked at her expectantly. What? She didn't recognize him? "I cut off the top of your head, stole you power. You totally hate my guts!"

"Uhh…"

He sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead. This whole thing was giving him a headac--

"OMG, Sylar!" Claire screamed, tazering him.

"Ow! What is with you and the tazer?! Seriously!" He growled "Why are you here anyways? What happened to that fish guy?"

"How'd you know about him?" Claire said suspiciously, avoiding the question. She stroked her tazer lovingly.

"That's all you talk about on your blog."

"You read my blog?""Yeah, I found it accidentally while googling 'cat food'. Its not very interesting." Sylar commented, failing to mention why in the world he was googling 'cat food'.

"That's not nice!" Claire shrieked, chucking her tazer at him.

"Ow!" He clutched his head, whimpering a little. "You made me _bleed_…" Fed up, he put his glasses back on.

"Oh, hi! I'm Claire. Who're you again?"

There was a dull thunking as Sylar continuously beat his head against the table as Claire chattered on.

---

"Matt?" Mohinder said in a surprised voice, recognizing him as they both made their way to their tables. "What are you doing here? What about Daphne?"

"Oh hi, Mohinder." Matt greeted, looking uncomfortable with being within a five mile radius of the event. "I lost a bet and my tortoise has a sick sense of humor."

Mohinder gave him an odd look. "Oh hey," He said, "Here's my table.."

"Oh my God," He heard Matt mutter, hand over his face.

"What? Shouldn't you be getting to your table?"

"This _is_ my table," Matt growled, gesturing to the seat across from Mohinder's. "This is _so_ not cool…"

"Wow, Matt, I didn't know we were so compatible." The geneticist said cheerfully.

"That's it," Matt climbed onto their table, standing up. "Everyone!" He shouted, getting the rest of room's attention. "I am _not _gay, okay?! Do you all understand! And if I _were _gay, I would most definitely not be into Mohinder, okay?! We used to live together, yes, but that was for Molly! OKAY?!" Still bug-eyed and breathing and bit heavily he calmly got off the table and collapsed in his seat with a huff.

Mohinder turned away, dabbing his eyes a little.

---------

Peter sat alone at a table, twiddling his thumbs in boredom. A little card sat in front of his, stating his name, number, and a disclaimer_. "Warning: Having a relation__ship with this man will most likely result in getting shot, getting lost in an alternate future, or any other event that ends in dead." _You know, lawsuits.

"Bennet?" He said suddenly, looking up to find the man with the horn-rimmed glasses seated in front of him. "I thought you were married?"

"I am, but I decided to get back in the dating game to show Nathan's peeps that I wasn't with my family anymore. You know, undercover stuff." Noah explained. Looking confused he added "Has there been a mix up? I thought we were supposed to be sitting with our matches?"

"Yeah," Peter shrugged, not offering an explanation. "Listen, I've been having a bad day, so I'm just gonna leave." He got about a yard from the table before he was tackled by the greeter.

"You can't LEAVE!" The greeter spazzed, "There's still another 20 MINUTES! SHAMWOW! SHAMWOW!"

Noah took off his glasses and cleaned them slowly, watching Peter squirm under the psycho-greeter with mild amusement.

"Help me!" Peter managed to scream.

"Sorry, no can--MY FACE!" Steaming hot oatmeal with a dash of cinnamon and little raisons had flown through the air and hit Noah's face with deadly accuracy. Shoving his glasses back on forcefully, Noah leapt to his feet, scanning the room. "Who threw that?!" Suddenly he locked gazes with a small fluffy dog at the far end of the room..

"_You_." He hissed. Oatmeal still sticking to his inflamed face Noah chased after Mr. Muggles, who scurried out of the room as fast as his tiny legs could take him.

"Mr. Muggles!" Sylar jumped to his little doggy friend's aid, his glasses coming off as he did so.

"OMG, Sylar!" Claire freaked out, scrambling to find her beloved the tazer.

In the corner, oblivious to all the mayhem around them sat Angela, leaning across the table towards the Creepy Guy whose name I Cannot Remember (That's his Indian name), who was leaning away from her."We're going to be _so_ happy together," She enthused. "I've seen it in my dreams


	9. Mission fic

**A/N: Hey thar, guys. Sorry it took me so long to update, but here's the Mission!fic. It's the one I was challenged to do where Peter tries to get a date, since he kinda has a terrible time with women. Please review, they are epicluff. ^^**

***Also, thanks to poor leetle Sprinkles who proofreads and posts my stories, because I'm lazy.**

****Also, again. Me and Sprinkles and planning on writing a noncracky Heroes fic soon. Coauthored and all that. That's finally it. Enjoy!**

* * *

Mission!fic

Peter Petrelli preened in front of the mirror, straightening his baby emo bang and flicking invisible dust off his casual, yet formal, yet casual outfit. Oh yeah, he was ready. He had remained dateless for too long! Tonight be was going to change that.

"Oh you look wonderful, dear." Angela fussed, "Don't forget your cards, you really need to warn people. I'm tired of all these lawsuits," She added, tucking the thick pile of warning cards in her youngest sons shirt pocket.

"Mom!" He yelled, shying away from her like a toddler getting his face washed. "I told you I didn't need those. And how'd you get in here? I thought I took away your key?"

"Oh you did, I made copies." She answered dismissively, patting his head she shoved him out the door. "Go knock 'em dead!"

As he walked away, throwing out the cards as he did, she called after him "Not literally!"

-----

Walking into the first place he came upon Peter fond himself in a comedy club bar thing and, ignoring the guy onstage telling some lame joke about fish, seated himself at the bar and ordered something.

"He's really_ floundering_ isn't he?" The bartender said as he delivered the drink, evidently thinking himself a budding comedian.

"Hehe, yeah," Peter said lamely, while his mind screamed 'NOT FUNNY'.

"Hey, turn it down a little, buddy! Some people are trying to enjoy themselves! So anyway, about trout…" Matt screamed from the stage.

"Hey Peteypoo," A voice whispered in his ear before he could contemplate the weirdness of what just happened. Jumping about a foot and 2.5678 inches in the air Peter turned to see Claire leaning forward so she was practically laying on top of him.

"Um..Hey there, Claire. Should you be drinking? I mean aren't you like seventeen or something…"

"I love you, Peter! LOVE!" She cried suddenly, throwing her arms around his neck. "And not the uncley kind of love! The disturbing incestful kind!"

"UMM…I'm kinds' your UNCLE, Claire. See the capital letters? Not to mention I'm like ten years older…" Peter said quickly with a horrified look as he attempted to wiggle out of her grasp.

"LOVE! LOOOOVE!" She shrieked after him, falling off her chair when he skittered away.

Situated in a new seat Peter rubbed his forehead and sighed, maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all…

"'Pus, Pete?" Nathan asked, plopping down next to his brother.

What the Waffle…"Pus?" Peter asked, giving him a strange look.

"It's 'sup' backward"

"Oooookay then…Listen I think I gotta go…"

"WAIT!" Nathan cried, grabbing Peter and shoving him back into his chair when he started to leave. "I heard you were trying to get back in the dating game and I found a nice girl you might like…C'mon Stacy, meet Peter."

"Hello there," The attractive woman greeted as she took a seat near them.

"Hey…" Peter just stared at her for a second, drooling just a little. Shaking himself a little he noticed that Nathan has disappeared.

"So..umm..Nathan said you're single?" He said awkwardly.

"Ye--" She paused suddenly, her eyes flicked over him for a long while, her large smile looking strained. "Um..No, I have a boyfriend. But my sister is. Come over here, Susie!" Leaning towards him Stacy whisper "I must warn you, she's quite a dog…"

More than a little perplexed Peter looked over to see what Susie looked like and found himself face to face with…a dog. An Afghan Hound to be exact.

"Woof," She…woofed.

"So…you single?" Peter asked, praying that this was all a cruel, cruel joke.

"Umm…Woof. Woof, bark bark. Ruff!" With that Susie trotted off with fluffy Mr. Muggles scurrying after her.

"He'll be back," Sylar muttered to himself, sitting in the dark corner and stroking Foofle the Taxadermied Rabbit slowly.

"Peter! Heeeelp me!" Nathan called suddenly, struggling to restrain what appeared to be a rabid Claire. "We need to get her to a hospital!"

"What is it?!" Peter asked, jumped to his feet, noticing that Stacy has slinked off.

"It's a big white building with doctors and sick people, but that's not important right now! Claire's gone cra---" The older Petrelli was cut off as his daughter got the better of him and dragged him off to her lair. "You're so grounded!" He managed to add.

"OHMAIWAFFLESINACAN!" The screech carried across the room and before he knew what was happening Peter had been tackled to the ground by a rabid fangirl. "I LUFF YOR EMO HAIRNESSNESSNESS!" She raved, foaming at the mouth just a little bit.

"AHHH!" He screamed, emotionally scarred for life. Oh, why him? Suddenly the weight was off him and he was being helped up.

"Hi, my name's Kathy," His savior greeted, smiling widely. "Seemed like you were having a problem there."

"Yeah, thanks for saving my life," Deciding to give it one more chance before he gave up and went home to cry he asked, "Do you want to go out some time?"

"I'd love to!" She enthused.

"Great!" Peter started to say something else but was interrupted by the world, time, and space all literally shattering simultaneously.

"WHO DIVIDED BY ZERO?!" Sylar screamed as he and all the others were crushed to infinitely small cubes by a random black hole.

Hiro walked out into the black void, looking confused. "Can someone help me with my math homework?"


	10. Sylar POV

Sylar POV

….I totally rock. I'm _awesome_. I think I just might get a pie, a little gift to myself. OW, a splinter. That _hurt_. Pain. OH HEY! WHOA! Where did you come from?! Yeah, I'm not going to wait for you to answer, this isn't Dora the Explorer, okay? I remember now anyways, I got this little memo in my pocket. So, I'm narrating today, sounds like fun. So-

_Hola, mi nombre es Alejandro. Hoy nosotros--_

Alejandro?! I totally killed you! Totally! You can't come back to life whenever you feel like it, you're not me! And learn English already!

_Ponte hielo._

Put ice on it? What the waffle?

…_Sabes espanol?_

Si, I took a few years a high school. That's besides the point though, go back to being dead and take Mo Mo with you, I don't need a narrator. I'M the narrator today! MWAHAHAHA!

…You may be wondering where I am right now. Nosy people. But anywho, I'm walking down the street using my snazzy new shapeshifting power and I just laughed (quite evilly, I might add) out loud. How embarrassing. The guys are never going to let me live this down.

"AHH!" I screamed in a calm and extremely un-girly fashion, hitting the deck as someone jumped out of an alley and tried to tackle me. "BAD TOUCH! BAD TOUCH!" As previously mentioned person dragged me into the dark scariness of the alley. I'm scared. I want my blankie. Uuuuuuuuuuh.

My rocking in the fetal position like a Romanian orphan was interrupted when my fingers were peeled away from my eyes to reveal..

"Kevin Bacon?!" I gasped.

"What? I'm Angela…" He/she/it said slowly, looking confused. "How could you mistake me for Kevin Bacon?"

"You are connected to _everyone_. You know, the whole six degrees of separation thing." I explained slowly. Silly, Kevin/Angela. Kevgela. I like.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Kevgela snapped, slapping my across the face. Owowow. "I've come to warn you. It's Peter, hes--"

"O. M. W!" The shriek pierced my sensitive ear drums like a…very sharp...umm…thing.

"Oh no," Kevgela paled, "Good luck!" She called as she skittered away like a frightened plankton.

Ice pick? Drill? Forget it.

"I LUFF YOU!" Peter screamed, tackling me. Why must people keep hurting me?! Don't they know that I am a delicate serial killing flower?!

"Okay, yeah, bad touch!" I squeaked in a manly fashion, telekinetically throwing him off me. I stood and brushed off my coat, all this tackling had gotten all sorts of grit and dirt all over it. I noticed that I had somehow changed back into my awesome self without noticing. Huh, guess I was having an out of body experience. "What's wrong with you, Peteypoo?"

He beamed up at me adoringly and I couldn't help but notice he'd drawn large eyebrows on his face. Flattering, but mostly creepy. And my eyebrows aren't _that_ big, by the way.

Yeesh.

"I lurrrrrrve you, Sylarkins! Can't you see that!?"

"Since when? Last time I checked you totally hated my guts. Totally." I gave him an odd look, slowly inching away from him.

"SINCE NOW!" He said in a dramatic whisper, grabbing my shirt and jerking my towards him. For one terribly, scarring second I thought he was going to start making out with me, because, contrary to popular belief, _I am not gay_. But he just continued his dramatic speech in my ear.

"It's the babies! The _babies_! They're part of the conspiracy! The Man tryin to bring us down!"

"The babies?!" I gasped, alarmed. "I knew it! That's what I've told them all along! WHO'S LAUGHING NOW, HOMELAND SECURITY?! WHOSE CRAZY NOW?!"

Peter was bouncing up and down in excitement now. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! And the _chickens_! You know what I mean?!"

"Chickens?" I scoffed, "Please. Get a life, Peteypoo Bear." I turned to leave him only to run into someone tall with horn-rimmed glasses, sending chocolate milk flying everywhere.

"You spilled my chocolate milk!!!one!!11!!" Noah wailed, hurling a conveniently placed javelin at my face.

"Noah is drinking chocolate milk! You're argument is invalid!" Peter yelled from the background.

Wha--AHHH!" Noah's screech of terrible, horrible agony pierced my previously mentioned delicate ears (Ow) as a mug of hot chocolate flew from no where and sloshed scalding hot liquid all over his face. Hm...he sure has a problem with that, he should really get it checked out..."It was a chilly morning!" He screamed as he ran off.

….And you wonder why I kill people?


	11. Chocolate Milk

**A/N: Kinda random, but I was looking at some other crack!fic today and I realized "Holy Waffles, how do I come up with this stuff? Is my brain made of crack?" The answer: The world may never know XD Anywho, I hope you enjoy this, I'll hopefully have another one up soon if I ever get around to finishing it. R&R!**

"So? By saving you did I save the world?" Peter Petrelli asked, really hoping that this girl was the cheerleader he was supposed to save. He so did not want to go through that again.

"How should I know, dude? I don't even know what you're talking about. Daddykins! There you are!" Claire chirped, prancing away to join her bespectacled father.

Shrugging it off Peter left to go to Wal-mart, not even noticing that one arm was still twisted in a unnatural looking way.

Little did Peteypoo know that Claire _wasn't _the cheerleader he needed to save, that was Joey Joerstein, the male cheerleader that everyone thought was gay but was really just bisexual. And Sylar was after him.

BUM BUM BUM.

Actually Sylar was limping away annoyed, his leg throbbing painfully. Stupid whats his face pushed him off the stupid ROOF. Who does that?! If only he'd gotten the right cheerleader, then he'd be dandy fine. How was he to know which one was which?! They all looked the same to him.

"HEYA!" A bright overly cheerful voice assaulted him, and he was sure somewhere a sea cucumber died because of it. Some guy stood in his way, wearing the male version of the Union Wells cheerleader uniform. "Why the long face, Mr. Big Eyebrows?"

"No reason, just fell off the ROOF, that's all, nothing much!" Sylar snapped, ignoring the name.

"Well my name is Joey Joerstein, nice to meet you! I know what'll cheer you up in a jiff!" Waving his hands mystically he synthesized a vanilla cupcake complete with bright pink icing and sprinkles of assorted colors. "Here ya go!" He said, thrusting the treat into Sylar's hands.

"Thanks, are you gay or something?" The serial killer asked, eyeing the cupcake hungrily. Oh how he loved cupcakes, but he couldn't eat it in front of this kid, that would mess with is bad guy reputation.

"Bise--OWERS!" Joey yelped as Sylar quickly well…sylar'd him, poking around his exposed brain until he was able to magically produce all the cupcakes he could ever want. Kicking aside the body, that kid was annoying anywho, he stuffed the whole cupcake in his mouth.

He jumped exactly a foot and 3.45 inches in the air when an older, scarier version of Hiro teleported right in front of him. "Joey, did you get saved? I sent a guy…CRAP!" Hiro yelled, seeing the dead body. He turned to Sylar, who was currently choking on the cupcake, "Peter didn't save him?! WTW?!" He popped away again before coming back, this time with Peter, who was clutching a toaster oven to his chest.

"I wasn't stealing it, I swear!" Peter screamed before looking around and seeing that it wasn't the security guard who had grabbed him. He awkwardly set the toaster oven down, explaining. "Sorry, I just steal toaster ovens sometimes, they remind me of my old cat, he used to love his bagels…" His eyes started to tear up.

"Oh, Mr. Meowsers?" Sylar asked, having finally gotten the cupcake dislodged from his throat.

"How'd you know that!?" Peter demanded.

"Remember, we were roommates for like five minutes." He said, rolling his eyes.

"OHYEAH, I remember. You sylar'd Mr. Meowsers!" Peter said, disgruntled.

"I thought he had the power to be cute, he was very adorable," Sylar shrugged.

"ANYWAYS," Hiro interrupted, looking irritated, "You didn't save the right cheerleader!"

"I didn't?" He tapped his chin, considering the consequences. "Well, crap…"

"Yeah!" Hiro snapped, "That's right! The worlds gonna end now!"

"When?" Sylar asked quietly. The kiddies don't like it when mommy and daddy fight.

The Japanese man checked his wristwatch, "Hmm…about five seconds from now."

"OHNOES!" Peter and Sylar wailed in unison.

"Don't do that," Peter scowled, smacking Sylar.

"Owwww….." The psycho serial killer whined.

Not too far off in the Bennet hom Mr. Bennet/Noah/HRG/The man who gets hit by breakfast foods poured two glasses of chocolate milk. One for him and one for his bloodstained daughter.

"You see, Claire…" He started, taking a sip of the chocolate milk. He never got to finish though, because at that moment the world exploded.

"NOAH IS DRINKING CHOCOLATE MILK! YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID!" Mr. Muggles screamed right before it happened.

…And then they all the happily ever after. The end.


End file.
